


X-Rogue

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: (No previous knowledge needed), AU, Crossover, F/M, Rogue One - Freeform, X-men - Freeform, powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13296471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What caught young Jyn’s immediate attention were the two streaks of bright light coming from the boy’s outstretched hands, the power in his palms.“He’s been cursed.” Galen whispered to her. She would only learn her father’s bastardization of that word many, many years later.





	X-Rogue

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a crossover of sorts of Rogue One/X-Men, but it’s more focused on the characters of Rogue One, and just uses the characters of X-Men, not any of the plot lines. You don’t need any previous knowledge of either fandom to read.   
> It’s basically just me wanting to write both Rogue One fanfic and X-Men fanfic, and deciding to compromise.

Jyn grew up with a story each night.  
It had started at a young age, as a way for her mother and father to push reading and literacy upon their daughter. It was at her father’s insistence that it became some sort of a ritual, because Galen Erso prided himself on education. It was another quirk of having a genius for a father, one of many that Jyn would learn over the years- and not all of them positive.  
They were lucky to find that their daughter’s appetite for stories was absolutely voracious- she absorbed any and all literature thrown her way, eagerly living through the events and places the stories contained. It had all started because of those stories her father read her each night, leaving a lasting impact on the girl.  
He would always sit on the edge of her bed, after tucking the expensive, rich silks and furs around his daughter’s small form. He would have that look in his grey eyes, that sparkling hint of knowledge in his gaze as he watched her eagerly await her story. Jyn would be squirming at that point, so excited to receive another story, her father just a conduit for Jyn and the world between the pages.  
“This was wrote by a friend of mine, star-dust.” Galen had said one night, a light smile on his face as he regarded his daughter with a loving gaze. Jyn had been curious at that revelation; many people came through the Erso mansion, many faces and suits. They would always pat her on the head, and some even brought her expensive gifts from around the world, toys from cultures young Jyn had never even heard of. She was the adoration of the many people who dined with the Ersos, simply a delight for them to spoil.  
Jyn did not know much about her father at that time, especially not his business. He was not a writer, she knew as much- why would her father be close friends with another writer? It baffled her at the time. Looking back, it was clear why he would be accustomed to the story he told.   
“Once upon a time,” Galen started, adding the extra phrase on. He loved theatrics, Jyn knew, even at her young age. “There was a young boy, named Luke.”  
“Can I see the picture, papa?” Jyn had asked eagerly, her small fingers grasping at his arm, begging him to turn the page towards her. He obliged, letting her see the painting; there was a young boy with ruddy cheeks and straw-colored hair, wrapped snugly in swaddling clothes. Jyn observed it all with bright eyes, her mouth open slightly in fascination. Galen smiled.  
“He was a good boy. He always helped his mother with the dishes-” Galen stopped to turn the page, letting Jyn see the picture. The boy was older now, perched upon a step-stool, leaning over the bubbly dishwater. His hands were submerged, washing a plate, while his mother smiled appreciatively.  
“-and he took his puppy on walks each day.” Galen added, letting Jyn look at the next image.   
“But one day, his parents passed away.” He added, watching Jyn’s face change completely. Her mouth opened, her eyes overflowing with tears that threatened to fall. Her bottom lip shook, looking at her father with a horrified look.  
“Papa!” Jyn cried, her pudgy fingers grasping at his robe. “I wanted a nice story!”  
“It ends good, Jyn, I promise.” Galen told her sternly. He was adamant that they would finish the story; Jyn didn’t understand his insistence until many, many years later.   
“Luke was sent to live with his uncle, but he had never met him before.” Galen continued, showing Jyn the picture; the young boy was now just shy of being a teenager, standing in front of a modest house, his luggage beside him as he looked up at an unfamiliar figure. Jyn furrowed her brow, confused.   
“His uncle was strict.” Galen said, reading the page. At the time, Jyn had not known the word, but she decided not to ask. Her father loved for her to figure out words on her own, to inquire intelligently.   
She had figured out the word, but only truly understand the bastardized version that Galen used many, many years later.  
“He made Luke clean the house each day, and he made Luke work at the his bakery after school.” The picture showed an unhappy Luke scrubbing at a counter, and then kneading a loaf of dough. Jyn could relate, even as a young child- she didn’t like it when her mother made her pick up her toys. She could understand Luke.  
“This made Luke unhappy. So Luke ran away from home.” Galen said. Jyn gasped at the turn of events, covering her mouth with small, grubby fingers. She couldn’t believe it- running away! She loved her parents dearly, and couldn’t imagine leaving them behind, ever. The outside world was a scary, scary place, and Galen reminded her every day.  
“He went back home after a few days. He missed his family.” Galen continued. “But he had been a bad boy.”  
The next picture intrigued young Jyn even more; the painting showed Luke coming home, but instead of being happy, he was on his knees. His face was pained, and he looked even more unhappy. But what caught Jyn’s immediate interest were the two streaks of bright light coming from Luke’s outstretched hands.   
“He had been cursed.” Galen continued.   
“Oh no.” Jyn whispered, horrified.   
“But Luke’s uncle loved him very much, even though he was cursed.” Galen said, watching Jyn’s engaged expression take in the book eagerly.   
“His uncle gave him the cure to his disease.” Galen told her, letting her take in the next page. The young boy was being given a shot, his face turning from a frown to a bright smile. Jyn pointed to the sharp needle, concerned.  
“Did it hurt him?” Jyn asked, touching the needle in the painting.  
“No, Jyn. It felt good, because his curse was taken away.” Galen answered. Jyn nodded, as if the answer explained absolutely everything.   
“Luke was clean again. And so he lived his life happily ever after.” Galen finished the novel, letting Jyn’s eyes rest a while on the last picture- Luke old and happy, with a young family of his own. He looked joyous and cheerful, a bright smile on his animated features.   
“That’s it?” Jyn asked after a moment, looking up at her father with her big, brown eyes. She was a child, and at the time, the short story had seemed perfectly normal and right- the only concern to her young self was the fact that the book was not as long as her usual night-time stories, and that was entirely unfair.  
Over fifteen years later, it still stuck in Jyn’s mind, so sharp and clear that it felt like it was perhaps another story immortalized in the pages of a book. She remembered every detail, every lesson taught to her through that book. She knew the paintings like it were burned into the back of her eyes, could recite the words as if they were scripture. And to the Ersos, and many others, they practically were. Even though the cure proved to be a dud, something too good to be true, they still ate up the knowledge.  
So it was a shock when, at the late age of seventeen, Jyn began to change.  
She had been ill for a week, just a nasty bout of the common cold, her mother had assured her. It was what it felt like, exactly what their private doctor told her. Jyn was truly just happy to be out of her private school for a few days, even though her mother threatened to hire a tutor for when she was out.  
Jyn felt weird, though; the hot flashes were intense, and at times she swore she could feel her skin crawling, feel it moving. It wasn’t exactly pain, more of just extreme discomfort. Each time it happened, her stomach turned, nausea rising up in her. Jyn ignored it best she could, sipping on her glass of orange juice as she browsed through television channel.  
There was not much on, unless she wanted a rerun of the original Star Trek or an ad telling her how much weight she could lose with one fat-burning pill. She paused on the news for a moment, but it was nothing more than the usual problems. Jyn turned off the television, defeated.  
The feeling came back, except this time it was strong, powerful.  
It was not in her stomach, but rather on it- the skin on top of her stomach burned, that same sensation she could only describe as crawling. She tentatively pressed her hand over her shirt, feeling her stomach.  
Jyn’s heart stopped- she felt it move, the skin bulge out, then go back immediately.  
She darted to the bathroom, throwing on the lights. The expansive room lit up, all shiny appliances and expensive marble. Jyn threw her thin shirt off her, letting her hand rest on the pale skin of her stomach, gazing at her form in the mirror. Her eyes were round, her hands shaking, horrified.  
Nothing. The feeling was gone.  
Jyn looked in the mirror, seeing her sick, pale skin and her stringy hair, her overused sports bra and fluffy pajama bottoms. The sickness hadn’t been kind on her.   
But then something happened.  
Half of her face, the bottom from her left ear to the right edge of her chin, moved. It bulged out, and Jyn swore she saw her jawline move, change into something rounder, not as sharp. Her nose seemed bigger, different, and her skin was momentarily a slightly darker shade.  
Jyn screamed, pushing back from the counter in a frenzy.  
She touched her face, feeling, pulling at the skin there. It was normal, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She must be going crazy, locked in the house with her parents at work, her mind messed up with all the medicine the doctor prescribed. She needed sleep, she decided.  
Jyn turned on the water, loving the feel of the icy spray over her hands. She cupped them under the stream, leaning down her face to splash it on her skin. It felt divine.   
She grabbed a towel, patting at her skin until it was dry. She blinked water out of her eyes with a big yawn. She reached for the lights, about to curl up into bed and sleep the sickness out, but she glanced in the mirror before she left.  
It wasn’t her.  
Her face was someone else- rounder features, darker skin, not her in the slightest. Jyn froze, the air stolen from her lungs, her mouth- no, someone else’s mouth- agape. She trailed a hand down her face, feeling that it in fact was not hers.   
Jyn didn’t even have the air to scream this time, instead stumbling back against the doorframe, knocking her head painfully on the white trim. She barely even felt it.  
“Oh my god.” She hissed, still running her hands over the weird features. She kept repeating the words, tears streaming down the face that wasn’t hers.  
Her hands were shaking as stood in front of the mirror.   
“I can change this.” Jyn told herself. It was just something weird, a one time thing. She didn’t know how or why it happened, but it could go back to normal. She knew it.  
She closed her eyes, shutting them tightly. She hummed a tune in her head, something she’d heard her mother sing a few times. Her breath came out in rapid pants, her calm exterior deteriorating quickly.   
She opened her eyes again.   
Jyn still wasn’t herself.  
“No, no, no.” Jyn said, the tears still streaming down her face. She realized who she was looking at- their maid. She had seen her once today, cleaning the kitchen as Jyn refilled her orange juice.   
Jyn didn’t understand. She hadn’t done anything wrong- she was the perfect student, top of her highly-competitive private school, a promising violinist of the San Diego Youth Symphony, a model daughter. At her dad’s insistence, she was perfect, and she told herself that she was okay letting her dad lead her life. It made her feel successful, and that was what mattered.  
Why was this happening to her, then? She gripped the edges of her sink with her hands, sobbing despite herself. Hot, fat tears rolled down the maid’s face, the salty taste of tears invading Jyn’s mouth.  
She stayed there for what felt like an hour, gradually sinking to the cold bathroom floor. The marble felt so nice on her bare skin, soothing the fire that rested beneath the surface of her skin. Her tears stopped, eventually, but she felt miles away.  
She knew what she had to do.  
Jyn knew the name from hushed conversations she’d stumbled upon at night, overhearing her dad and his business partners at the dining room table. She’d stood at the top of the staircase, just out of view, listening for more of the unknown. It was a part of her, one she could only attribute to her love of stories- Jyn was very curious, and very intuitive.   
Jyn packed a bag, shoving clothes into the suitcase in a frenzy, ignoring the hangers. She threw her toiletries in there, enough to last for a week- she hoped that was enough. She threw in everything she could fit, from shoes to books to souvenirs from past treks across the world. She was on autopilot, her brain a fuzzy mess.  
She thought about her phone, her laptop, but decided otherwise. She wiped both.  
As she made her way down the ornate staircase, she was numbly aware of the fact that this could be the last time she set foot in the mansion, in her childhood home. Jyn knew that after today, that would be a good thing, a blessing.  
She found the safe, the one her parents gave her the code for. Just in case, they had told her. Her father lived a dangerous, controversial career, and Jyn had found that he was also extremely cautious in protecting his family as a side effect.  
She grabbed the wads of cash from inside, stuffing them in the suitcase, some in the grey hoodie she had switched out her pajamas for.  
Jyn sniffled, rubbing at her snotty nose. She wasn’t prepared. How the hell do you even prepare for something like this?  
She wished there was a book. A story, something to guide her, something her dad read to her as a child. Jyn realized there wasn’t anything to help her now.   
Jyn took the least valuable car, a small, new vehicle that still smelled new and fresh. She wouldn’t need it for long, and her parents wouldn’t notice it was gone until much later. It was exactly what she needed. She drove along the familiar streets, cataloging the things she wouldn’t see anymore- the neighbor’s japanese cherry blossom, the dog park down the street, the coffee house around the block. It was a surreal experience, and Jyn knew she wouldn’t understand the true loss of her past until later.  
She made her way to the public library, going straight to the back; she found the computer furthest away from all cameras, and set to work.  
A few minutes later, she had a phone number. Jyn memorized the numbers, burning the pattern into the back of her mind. The library had a small, practically ancient payphone around the back, flanked by a green, leafy tree.  
Jyn entered a few coins, dialing the number. Her fingers shook, and while she was dialing, she reached up to touch her face. She was relieved, even if only slightly, that it was back to normal for once.   
“Xavier’s School for the Gifted; may I ask who is calling?”  
“I need help.” Jyn rasped, her words spilling out before she could have second thoughts, her request out in the open, her actions now permanent. 


End file.
